


Together

by mhs0501



Series: Hansoff Saga [5]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Frozen (2013) Fusion, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Childhood Memories, Comfort, Declarations Of Love, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Hans Has Fire Powers, I letrerally sat here for twenty minutes deciding whether or not to post this, M/M, My First Smut, Nightmares, Not very good at it but oh well, Nudity, Oral Sex, Same-Sex Marriage, Sleeping Together, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5158550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhs0501/pseuds/mhs0501
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After waking up from a nightmare, Kristoff and Hans keep each other awake by reliving some of their past memories. With their decision made to be married, Hans wonders if they really should go on with their decision before realizing that together, they just might stand a chance.</p><p>This was something I just got in my head and couldn't forget about. Hope you all like it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so there is sex in this story, and it's pretty... tame... I guess. I don't know. I've only read dirty fanfics, never written them. This is my first attempt at it, so let me know what you all think.

“Hans, she wouldn’t…” Kristoff said under his breath at the scene unfolding before him.

 

It was painfully familiar and all too real. He knew the course of this nightmare like he knew the course he and his horse Fannar took to the ice fields when harvesting ice during the sporadic seasons that he’d grown accustomed to from childhood. It was pure torment despite the fact that he should’ve moved on, moved past it; like he’d heard one could do after a period of passing time in which one would reflect on it and try to prove the logic in the scenario.

 

But logic was, in all honesty, the farthest thing from his mind when it came to his terrors. Kristoff knew logic didn’t matter in dreams or nightmares especially. The ice cutter wasn’t exactly sure if that was just how it worked for all people, or if he was just that lucky to be paralyzed with fear in these kinds of scenarios.

 

After all, it was just so real he couldn’t deny what he saw. Kristoff would never truly forget that moment when he sacrificed himself to save the Fire Prince and single handedly defeated an insane queen, saved his best friend, and won the love of his life in the course of minutes. It was a feat he’d never really pondered upon after it had happened. Of course, Kristoff had been acting on instinct at the moment, and was still grateful he could even see the event after the effects of Hans’ powers had hit him full swing.

 

But the ice cutter wished for a moment he had been blind if only in his dreams so he didn’t have to witness this nightmare once more. But as he’d long ago figured out, dreams or nightmares couldn’t be controlled; no matter how much he desired that they could be.

 

The hot, dry air sent static through Kristoff’s spine as he watched for a moment the world from his jagged point of view on the lumpy, volcanic glass from Hans’ eternal heatwave. Dark clouds of smoke billowed into the sky in the shape of an iris, the swirling black layer seemingly ending at an invisible line that glowed distantly with embers and ash like stars. He knew Elsa and Pedar were still making their way through the seemingly endless blizzard of searing heat, the iceman himself only just reaching the core of the storm created by the princes internal suffering and terror.

 

Katharine stood firm, the long, silver blade of her sword poised over the young royal, who was now falling to the ground as the deafening wind and blazing heat subsided for a moment of silence. The Fire Prince was on his knees, sobs rocking his back at the realization Kristoff was dying right before his eyes. The realization of it was too much for Hans to handle. Had he not been dying at the moment, Kristoff would’ve been touched.

 

The homicidal queen flashed a venomous grin at her greatest enemy, the hideousness of her swelling and oozing injuries painful to even look at. She grunted with slight effort to bring the sword to a higher climax, her injuries handicapping her enough with the provided time Kristoff needed to sacrifice himself again. But rage fueled her, and the iceman knew rage was a powerful weapon that was hard to reign. And despite the fact that Katharine may have been a monarch with reigning as her job, this was obviously something she either couldn’t control, or didn’t want to control.

 

Kristoff pulled his feet forward, ordering them to move as fast as possible. He had to make the sacrifice. To end the pain. To save his prince before it was too late. His legs began to slowly move with a pained ache, Kristoff pushing all the more harder to pick up the pace like his life depended on it. With a familiar wave of triumph, Kristoff moved faster, his legs going faster with each instant that passed.

 

The smoke was clearing. He could see Elsa and Pedar stumbling out of the visor of darkness, their eyes red from irritation and out of breath from heat, sweat pouring down their flushed faces that was dark with particles of ash. The pain in his heart squeezed the organ once more, faltering his desperate attempt at saving someone when he knew he needed to be saved himself.

 

But the ice cutter had resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t survive. Instinct had told him to do it anyhow, with his life balancing on a rotting beam. The sword was beginning its descent, the swipe of the blade cutting through the air that was the only audible sound in Kristoff’s ears. Glowing blood begin to sear his skin as the heat began its final attack on Kristoff’s very weakened body.

 

He knew it was coming. The iceman knew exactly what was coming. The dream had gone on too far for him not to narrow down the possible scenarios. In some he tripped. In some, he fell just short. In some he died right then and there. The results were all that same: Hans would die, and Katharine would laugh before killing the iceman as well. But this was, by far, his worst one.

 

His feet were seized by a pain that caused him to stop in his tracks despite what he was trying to do. Kristoff gulped a breath of air as he looked down at the lumps of obsidian clumping around his now bare feet, burns now rather obvious in the scalding heat of the melted, glowing material. He struggled against the pain, wheezing gasps and pleas as he tried to free himself from the hardening glass, but found no such luck.

 

All of the pain he felt faded when the queen’s sword plunged into Hans’ back, the overwhelming amount of red in his vision making Kristoff shut his eyes before they opened again, his subconscious forcing him to witness Hans’ slow, painful death when all Kristoff wanted to do was look away.

 

The princes breathing became shallow in the long time that followed, the devious smirk on Katherine's face causing streams of grey tinted tears to roll down the ice cutters cheeks at watching his friend die again whist seeing her satisfaction in lieu of it. Hans became still, and a shrill, mocking laughter echoed across the vast, glassy harbor. The queen was laughing at her success. Laughing at Kristoff. He had failed.

 

The unbearable loss began to set in as the nightmare took a new form, Katharine continuing to laugh as Kristoff felt himself beginning to succumb to the effects of the dead princes final curse, clear, black obsidian climbing his legs as he felt them leave his radar; as if they’d vanished upon contact with the flawless material. Kristoff felt the tears increasing as the glass continued to cement him in place, the layers around his feet growing thicker as the lack of feeling reached his disappearing waist. It was confusing and horrifying at the same time. The glass was slowly beginning to squeeze the life out of him.

 

The smooth glass was past his biceps when the mocking laughter ended, and he saw Katharine coming up to him, her hideous features and gruesome burns dulled by the striking green of her glowing, confident eyes. It was nearly inhuman.

 

She stared at the iceman with a proud motif, as if daring him to move when he obviously couldn’t. He wasn’t just held in place physically. Kristoff was too busy sobbing at Hans’ limp form to even consider fighting a force he knew he couldn’t win against.

 

Katherine's chuckling was soft as she shook her damaged head slowly, the singed pieces of hair sticking out with thorns. The layer of obsidian was climbing the sides of his face as Kristoff felt his organs collapsing within from the final wave of the Fire Princes power.

 

“I’ve won.” She stated bluntly as the glass covered Kristoff’s brown eyes, leaving his world to go black.

 

***

 

Sweat dampened the blonde fringe that stuck to his forehead as Kristoff’s eyes shot open, the terror of the nightmare he’d just done through leaving him with a racing pulse, damp sections of skin, and a glaze look to his brown eyes. His breaths were near ragged, as if he’d pushed himself to run the final stretch of a foot race. The dark atmosphere of the slightly familiar room welcomed him, moonlight stretching along the red wallpaper in diagonal prisms from the diamond frame of the gabled window. Blood rushed to his face at the realization that he was completely bare save for the bunched up covers the draped over him and another figure.

 

The sight of him caused Kristoff to release a relieved sigh. The faint and familiar scent of smoke made the ice cutter feel safe, warm, at home, like a fireplace would’ve done. Hans stirred in the bed they had shared for the evening, his freckled back covered around in a manner resembling an ancient toga. His breathing was soft and steady, like the ocean waves that lapped against the harbor that was only a stone's throw away.

 

Kristoff smiled softly and began the slow and careful task of untangling his naked body from the princes sheets, the blush fading from his cheeks at the calming and sudden remembrance of what had transpired only hours before. He’d promised along with engagement a night of doing what they had done only once or twice before.

 

They waited until well after they’d seen the last light in the castle go out before even considering starting. Thankfully, either of them had yet to experience the crushing embarrassment of someone walking in on their sessions, but it was already established between the strange family that intimate nights were to be ignored, if at all possible. The majority of Hans’ brothers had moved out by this point, making it easier and far less inconvenient. Despite the massive size of the palace, thirteen siblings always proved to be just that.

 

Their first time had been a total disaster despite the similarity of their respective parts (Of course, both of them had their own differences) and that night had been a time of dreadful experimenting and guessing games that was so embarrassing to Hans they’d stopped sleeping in the same bed altogether; at least, when things got more serious.

 

Sexual intimacy between the two was still treading on a tightrope. They were still unsure sometimes what to do with one another. This led to Kristoff wondering just how big a disaster their sex lives would’ve been had they paired up with women. It was confusing enough with his own gender, much less with someone who had a completely different set of parts to fumble with.

 

But despite the awkwardness of their passion, Hans had wanted it. So Kristoff was more than happy to try again for his sake.

 

It’d began technically before they’d even reached the princes bedroom, Hans allowing passion to take over in the heat of the moment when Kristoff had accepted his proposal of engagement. It had been Kristoff who’d stopped him before things went too far, and promised himself to his prince that very night. It had been tough holding their urges through dinner and time in the study where Thomas, Elsa, Pedar and Ashley were all in the same room. Granted, Thomas was ensnared in paperwork whilst the lumberjack and her fiance were ensnared with each other and Ashley was content sitting by the fire and playing with one of her ‘little sisters’ that Hans had created when a sneeze overtook him. But after the couple had gone to bed, Thomas had relocated to the study, and the little snowbie wandered off to who knew where with the ashgirl following, the iceman and the Fire Prince had a passionate time on the couch before moving to the bedroom.

 

“Come on! I’m not about to wait any longer!” Hans nearly sprinted ahead of Kristoff like he was about to spontaneously combust from lust.

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Geez, you’ve been wanting this for a while.” The iceman groaned slightly as they reached the room where Hans slept.

 

“Yes, now move before I burn your cock off as revenge.” The prince threw open the door and almost immediately began to undress from his normal fire attire.

 

Kristoff watched in awe as he always did when Hans used his fire magic on himself, his choice of attire being an interesting thing to observe, especially when there was almost always nothing beneath. But instead of going all the way as the ice cutter would’ve expected, only Hans’ shirt disappeared, exposing his slightly pale and slender chest.

 

The physical differences between them were almost like the moon and sun. Hans was pale and slender, a dusting a of freckles covering his shoulders, back, and ass. Kristoff was less pale, his his taking on a healthy glow at times. He graced almost no physical deformities, save for callouses on his hands from years of working in the ice fields. While Hans’ hair was a reddening auburn, Kristoff’s was a golden blonde. The differences could go on and on, but in the end they were only physical. It was their lust that guided them like a captain would a ship.

 

Kristoff unbuttoned his shirt and threw it aside, Hans immediately upon him as their chests pressed together, warmth from their passion causing sweat to drip down Kristoff’s face. Hans, save for when he was feverish, almost never sweated. Kissing began to grow more involved as tongues were used, their lips locking together and separating in a rhythmic manner. Both sets of eyes were closed, allowing hands to explore freely at their own accord.

 

The ice cutters rough fingers groped at Hans’ ass through the fabric of his pants, the coal black breeches beginning to disappear as the prince began to lose control of his powers in the hands of his fiance.

 

Grunts echoed in the room at the kissing continued, the lust from the events of the day bottlenecking in a fashion that rivaled most ancient depictions of erotic poetry. In seconds Kristoff felt Hans’ large member press against his own from beneath the fading garments. In mere moments Hans was pantless, the only thing left being a pair of simple undergarments that the prince wore simply because he didn’t care to redesign them with his gift. There was really no reason to. Not when Kristoff was the only person to see them.

 

After a long time, they broke their kiss, and the iceman got down on his hands and knees, gazing longingly at his fiance's growing erection before Hans broke the silence.

 

“Kristoff, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He blurted out as the ice cutter picked at the knot that held the undergarments in place. He stopped at Hans’ words and looked up at him.

 

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” He asked as if Hans had just asked him whether or not the sky was blue.

 

“Because; I know you’re worried about… pleasing me. I want you to know that it doesn’t matter.” Hans shut his eyes for a moment, contemplating what he could say or how he could say it.

 

But Kristoff didn’t want to stop. He’d already undone the knot keeping his lover's erection trapped.

 

“I don’t want you to do this if you’re focused on being-” The prince stopped mid-sentence as Kristoff began to jerk his large cock in his equally large hand. A deep moan escaped him as the ice cutter began to nurse the massive organ, its likeness only comparable to that of Olaf the reindeers it was that big. Kristoff had always enjoyed Hans’ massive foot size.

 

“Perfect…” Hans blinked and absentmindedly wrapped his fingers in the crown of golden blonde hair, pushing Kristoff onto his cock. He obliged, quickly letting go of the royals sceptre and allowing Hans to control his blowjob.

 

After a while, things shifted to the bed with the iceman preparing himself to enter a well known area that he found himself enjoying. In the question of top or bottom, They’d tried each position once before agreeing Kristoff was better at penetration than his fiance; although really, they’d just agreed Hans’ member was too big to fit into Kristoff after some experimentation. Lubrication wasn’t something they put much thought into and often relied on the growing supply of saliva and precum to do the job better than most oils had.

 

“Are you ready?” Kristoff breathed as he positioned his erection underneath Hans’ waiting hole. The prince nodded, his arms shaking with anticipation as they held onto Kristoff’s shoulders, his back on the bed as the ice cutter began to slide in. Both of them grunted and groaned as his cock entered with some difficulty.

 

“We’ve got to do this more often.” Hans mentioned with a gasp overcoming him as the head of Kristoff’s cock began to massage his prostate.

 

The motions between the two became rhythmic and simple, the ice cutter slowing down every once in awhile to feel his prince shutter in his hands. They’d both released within moments of one another, the time well past midnight. After a long period of ecstasy they’d finally pulled their lips apart and passed out where they lay. The mess would take them a while to clean up, and a long time to explain to the first maid that happened to wash the sheets, but at the moment, neither of them cared.   

 

Kristoff smiled at the memory. It’d happened so perfectly. And then the nightmares had come back, as if reminding him that he’d never be free of his past. That what they’d gone through for their happy ending had came at a high cost. At a loss as to what he could do to fall back asleep, Kristoff pushed himself off the bed and slipped on his undergarments as a cold breeze blew past him despite the warmth of his partner only being a few feet away. His feet brushed against the soft carpet as he walked across the dark room to the only light source at the moment: the glow of the moon shining through the gable. Sitting down on the solitary armchair positioned before the large and spectacular view, the ice cutter wondered for a moment what his fiance could’ve been dreaming about, a slight tingle at the base of his spine making it's presence known at the assumption. It felt comforting in the current loneliness of the room that he was anything but alone in these sort of night terrors. After all, Hans had them as often, if not more often than he did.

 

It began almost the exact night after the Great Cooling had rendered the Southern Isles free of Hans’ heatwave. Screams of Hans and Kristoff echoing through the intricate web of hallways at the most inappropriate times. More than often one had come running to the other, and the rest of the night was spent trying to put their life changing fears to rest. Kristoff could still recall those many nights where he’d fallen asleep in this same chair, the prince having fallen back into his own fitful sleep hours before. He’d promised to protect Hans should anything happen, the latter doing the same. It was kind of surreal they’d probably be saying the same thing as a wedding vow someday soon.

 

A stirring came from the other end of the bed, the rustling covers growing louder with a small grunt and a deep breath as Kristoff turned his head to see Hans arching his back in the shadow of the covered bed, his dark form shifting slightly with an heir of exhaustion.

 

“I’m over here.” Kristoff nodded as Hans began to feel the other end of the bed for him. A gasp and a blast of heat came from behind him before dying out quickly. “Sorry.” The iceman frowned at the prince's sudden shock.

 

“It’s okay.” Hans mumbled and swung his legs over the side of the mattress.

 

The carpet connecting with the thirteenth prince's feet seemed to echo in the room with the faint creak of the old floorboards. After a moment Kristoff felt a hand running through his hair, the warmth of the motion making him sigh longingly and relax.  

 

“So,” Hans continued to mumble, his eyes still half closed. “Which one was it?” He yawned softly and waved his free hand to the area beside him, a chair of black glass forming slowly, as if the reaction of the powers was still awakening like Hans was. Kristoff waited for the prince to sit himself down before telling him, a case of morning wood seeming to have overtaken the royal. Despite the familiarity with Hans’ body, it was still surprising to just how _big_ it could get. For a moment he made the connection between the seamstress Anita’s joke about how she had to sew at least six inches into Hans’ pants. It was still early on in their courtship, so needless to say, the iceman knew what to expect during their first time.

 

“It was the one where your powers stop me from making it in time. But this time was different. And worse.” Kristoff bit his cheek as the former queen's words echoed in his mind. Hans wondered whether or not to press further, but the long silence between them suggested the ice cutter was waiting for him to say something.

 

“Different how?” He ran a hand through his hair.

 

“When you… you know…” He couldn’t bring himself to use the word ‘died’. “The hold on my legs tightened, like it was trying to kill me. It started spreading with your curse. And right as I was dying, she came up to me.” Hans nodded, Katharine being an often occurrence in his own nightmares. “And she said she’d won.” Kristoff deadpanned.

 

“But she didn’t.” Hans countered, much more awake now.

 

“She did there.”

 

“But not here.” The prince placed his hand on Kristoff's bare knee.

 

The ice cutter fell silent, feeling slightly better about the situation with Hans there. At least the room wasn’t so lonely. A thought entered his mind and Kristoff found it a welcome distraction.

 

“What was it like?” He asked, leaning across the chair like he would whenever Henrik, his father, would tell him a story about his past, stories about his mother, or just tales woven up to satisfy his overeager imagination.

 

“What was what like?”

 

“Being locked in here. All that time. What was it like?” Kristoff felt slightly surprised that he’d never bothered to ask about the subject. Hans took a shallow breath and the room suddenly became slightly humid, as if he was stressed about recalling the memories. But he soon released it, and the area became comfortable again.

 

“It was lonely, to say the least.” Hans looked down at the familiar carpet his six year old feet had once treaded upon the day he’d been isolated. Smoke began to rise from his ears, his red becoming slightly red at the thought of it.

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.” Kristoff deadpanned.

 

“No.” Hans said almost instantly. “We’ve made the commitment. We’ve made a promise. The least I can do is hold up my end of the bargain.” He gulped and recoiled his hand from where it rested on his lovers knee.

 

“Really Hans, you don’t have to.”

 

“But I should. I would’ve kept a diary but…” He held up his hands with a lopsided smile. Kristoff released a small chuckle at the vision of little Hans setting his journal on fire.

 

“That explains the lack of response to my letters, then.” Kristoff laughed at the realization.

 

“I actually still have a few of them, you know.” The prince mentioned casually casting a glance to the window box in front of them, it’s once seared burgundy cover having been replaced more times than the thirteenth prince could count. The iceman nodded in acknowledgement, wanting to see those letters sometime soon if he could.

 

“There were days when I’d listen at the door for the one sided conversations you’d have. They were much more entertaining than talking to myself.” Hans grinned at the recollection of those rainy days where he’d just sit at the door and listen for his friend, always hearing talking and more often than not, singing.

 

“Remember when I used to sing to you?” Kristoff glanced at the door as if he had somehow read his prince’s mind. Hans nodded.

 

He’d thought in his later years it was oddly romantic; like the Shakespearean plays his mother had included in his studies. The thought of the balcony scene from one came to his mind and Hans began to snicker at the image of himself in a dress and Kristoff proclaiming his love to him from a garden below.

 

“I still remember the time you were riding that bicycle around the halls and it went down the staircase.” Hans stated at the one time he’d opened his door out of concern.

 

“I was fine.” Kristoff quickly brushed off the accident.

 

“I heard you landed in the arms of a knight.” The prince chuckled.

 

“Who knew I’d still end up in the arms of one?” The iceman joked and Hans blushed at the comment, despite the fact that it was for the most part true.

 

Kristoff stood up from the chair and stretched, Hans admiring his chiseled feature from his view in the glass chair. The prince felt an erection growing as he stood up also, his iceman having walked back over to the bed and crawling under the covers.

 

Hans sat back down on his side of the large bed and watched as Kristoff stared up at him almost longingly. “What is it?” Hans asked lifting his legs onto the bed and leaning up against the headboard.

 

“What do you think we’re going to be doing tomorrow?” Kristoff yawned.

 

Hans pondered the thought for a moment. “We still have to tell everyone the news.” He sighed, wondering in the back of his mind if they’d made the right choice. Getting engaged was hardly a problem on its own, but marrying to another man? When he was bound to get some kind of grief over it? That was a hurdle the prince doubted he could take on by himself. Kristoff seemed to read Hans’ troubled face and propped himself up on one elbow, nearly leveling himself to the young royals height.

 

“Don’t worry.” Kristoff reassured him. “You’re not going to be alone.” He patted Hans’ shoulder knowingly. Hans took some comfort from the words, acknowledging his fiance’s support with a wan smile. The prince allowed himself to push the thought from his head, and sunk back down to his pillow with Kristoff doing the same.

 

The Fire Prince felt his head shifting so that it rested on Kristoff’s large, albeit fuzzy pectorals. His own warmth wasn’t required despite the fact that he could easily supply it. It made him think about what they would do tomorrow, Kristoff’s soft snoring calming his once growing worries like an ocean would. They wouldn’t let anyone stop them from achieving what they wanted, not after all they’d been through as friends, lovers and fiances. His mother had once told Hans that alone, one could conquer a village, but it took two to conquer a kingdom, and she’d meant Hans’ late father. He had been Maren’s other half, her rock, her entire world. And that was what Hans found in Kristoff.   

  
And so they would face the world. They would conquer the world. But only if they were together.


End file.
